


almost, on the edge of

by analineblue



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-29
Updated: 2010-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-03 14:47:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/382492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/analineblue/pseuds/analineblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ianto doesn't really love her anymore, it's just...</p>
            </blockquote>





	almost, on the edge of

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place mid season-one, post Cyberwoman, probably pre-stopwatch, if that makes sense. ;) Started out with the idea of drunk!Ianto showing up at Jack's office after hours and kind of went from there...

Ianto is drunk.

It’s two in the morning on a Wednesday, and Ianto is standing in the doorway of Jack's office. Jack would almost think it was a proposition, except for the way Ianto is glaring at him through those thick lashes with what looks like complete and utter distain.

Jack takes in his slightly disheveled appearance, the flushed cheeks, the half-untucked shirt, the way he sways a little in the doorway before he leans against the door frame.

He wonders what the hell happened.

“Ianto, hi,” Jack says evenly.

Ianto practically sneers at him.

“Coming in?” Jack says, setting his hands on top of the papers on his desk, starting to feel a little defensive. “Ianto?”

Ianto rolls his eyes. “Yes, Jack, I’m coming in.”

“You’re drunk,” Jack observes, as Ianto crosses the room, stopping in front of Jack’s desk, looking down at him with heavy-lidded eyes.

“Yeah? So what if I am? What do you care?”

Jack just raises his eyebrows.

“Or maybe you think that since I’m drunk you can’t spread me across your desk and fuck me into tomorrow like you would any other night of the week. I’m disappointed, Jack, really.”

“I didn’t say that…”

“Yeah, well then why don’t you get on with it already?”

Jack pauses, stares at Ianto, trying to figure out where this is coming from. “I don’t know, Ianto. Is that what you want?”

Ianto’s eyes flash dangerously. “Of course it’s what I fucking want, Jack. It’s always what I want.”

Jack just nods, and then stands up. Before Ianto has a chance to react he moves behind him, grabbing his wrists with one hand, and pulling them behind Ianto’s back, pushing Ianto forward onto the desk until Ianto’s cheek is pressed against the wood.

Ianto looks different, smells different like this, feels different, all denim and cotton and alcohol and cigarettes, and Jack is aching for him, even though he knows that something is off, that there’s something Ianto’s not telling him. The thing is, whatever it is that’s on Ianto’s mind, Jack is about 99% sure it doesn’t have anything to do with him. And that kind of pisses him off.

“Is this what you want?” Jack hisses into Ianto’s ear, pressing Ianto’s wrists into his back with one hand, twisting the skin roughly under his palm, and fumbling with his braces with the other.

Ianto mumbles something unintelligible into the desk and Jack shoves him a little, leaning on him heavily.

“I can’t hear you, Ianto, you’ll have to speak up.”

“Yes,” Ianto says, and it comes out so small, so broken, that Jack almost loses his resolve for a second, almost doesn’t want to oblige Ianto—-he’s just figured out that this is what he’s doing, and it’s vaguely infuriating.

But then Ianto says, again, “Yes, Jack, please,” and Jack knows he can’t help but give in, because after all, he wants this too, maybe more than Ianto does.

Jack fucks him quickly, hard thrusts and no finesse, his hand pumping Ianto’s cock roughly as Ianto whimpers and groans and lets Jack press his teeth against his bare shoulder, barely flinching when Jack bites down hard, and comes inside of him.

He lets Ianto finish himself off, and it’s almost painful to watch Ianto’s unsteady hands reach down to palm his half-hard erection into something he can get off on, so Jack turns away, recognizing the sounds of Ianto’s hand sliding up and down his cock, his breathless little sounds when he’s close, and the hitch in his breath when he comes a few moments later.

Ianto slumps onto the floor and leans back against Jack’s desk after he’s finished. After a minute or two he propels himself up, fumbling around the floor for his jeans, his belt.

Jack catches his elbow, steadying him, as Ianto bends over to tie his shoes.

“Hey,” he says, as Ianto straightens. He looks flushed, spent, but his eyes are dark, wide and dangerous, still.

“What,” Ianto asks, annoyed, when Jack doesn’t say anything.

“Nothing, just…”

“Jesus, Jack,” Ianto snaps. “Can’t you tell I’m really not in the mood?”

Jack just sighs. “Let me drive you home.”

“Fine,” Ianto says, still sounding annoyed. “But hurry up, I’m...” Ianto pauses, looking up at Jack, “I’m really fucking tired, Jack, okay?”

Jack insists on guiding Ianto by the arm all the way out to the SUV, despite Ianto’s attempts to shrug him off, and his insistence that he’s fine, damn it.

They spend the short car ride in silence. Ianto screws his eyes shut as soon as they get into the SUV and doesn’t open them until they’re in front of his flat.

“Thanks,” he says quickly, and starts to open the door, just as Jack turns of the engine.

Ianto frowns, and eyes Jack wearily. “Not tonight, Jack.”

Jack ignores him, gets out of the car, and crosses over, grabbing Ianto’s arm again, a little more roughly this time. “Give me a break, okay. I’m just walking you inside.”

“I don’t need you to—“

“Shut up, Ianto. I’m not in the mood either.”

And so Jack walks him in, deposits Ianto on the couch, watching him slump back into the cushions and close his eyes. He looks like shit, and Jack feels only slightly responsible.

Jack walks into the kitchen, and comes back into the living room a few moments later with a glass of water, and two aspirin.

For the first time all night, Ianto doesn’t look angry as he meets Jack’s eyes.

“Thanks,” he says, downing the pills in one, long gulp.

“Don’t mention it,” Jack says, and then he scoots up on the cushion a little, fixing Ianto with a serious look. “So are you going to tell me what’s going on, or am I going to have to ask you again tomorrow, back at the hub.”

Ianto sighs, swallows, shifts in his seat a little.

“Lisa,” he says finally, staring at a point somewhere past Jack’s boots. “It was our… It would have been our anniversary.”

“Ah,” Jack says, feeling a slight twinge of jealousy. “I’m sorry,” he says, but to be honest, he doesn’t really mean it.

“No, that’s not even it. I’m not… I don’t…” Ianto looks at Jack. “I know she’s gone.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain.”

“It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid, you loved her.”

Ianto closes his eyes. Takes a shuddering breath and nods a little.

“Come on,” Jack says a second later, feeling a little sorry he brought all this up. He should have known, really.

“What?” Ianto says, his voice a little groggy. It is 4AM, after all.

“Let’s get you to bed.”

And Jack is pulling Ianto up from the couch, and leading him into the bedroom.

Then he’s pulling off Ianto’s shoes, rummaging through Ianto’s closet and handing him pajamas, while Ianto watches him, alternating between looking confused, and embarrassed.

He stops short of tucking Ianto in.

After he turns off the light, Jack stops in the doorway.

“Take the morning off, okay?” He pauses. “You could’ve had the whole day off today too, if I’d known.”

Ianto doesn’t say anything at first. And then, quietly, “Okay. Thanks. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Jack says quickly. “Just get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”

“Jack?”

“Ianto?”

“I really don’t love her anymore.”

“I know.”

“I just—" Ianto sounds confused, emotional.

Jack doesn’t really want to hear it, and he’s sure Ianto really doesn’t want to talk about it, so he cuts him off.

“Ianto, I know. Go to sleep.”

Jack can hear Ianto chuckle softly, short, and a little bitter, as he closes the bedroom door behind him.

 

**end**


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